


The Man

by angelview



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Career, Alternate Universe - Corporate, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Angelview, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Badass Rey (Star Wars), Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Business, Business Rivals, CEO Ben Solo, Comfort/Angst, Competition, Dark Rey (Star Wars), Devoted Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Drama & Romance, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Gender Roles, HEA, Happily Ever After, Heavy Angst, I AM ANGRY, Identity Reveal, Inspired by Music, Internalized Misogyny, I’ll bite ur head offf, Misogyny, Misunderstandings, Modern Era, More tags to be added, Old Men, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Ben Solo, POV Rey (Star Wars), Palpatine ain’t shyte, Protective Rey (Star Wars), Rey Needs A Hug (Star Wars), Rey is a Palpatine (Star Wars), Reylo - Freeform, Self-Discovery, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Sexism, Slow Burn, Slow Burn Rey/Ben Solo, Slow Burn Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Slow Romance, Soft Ben Solo, Strong Rey (Star Wars), Taylor Swift - Freeform, Technology, The Force is money, The Man - Freeform, This is a response to the fandom menace, Women In Power, aLl tHe jEDi~~~, and inspired by my own personal anger, and people like jjerio, ang3lview, ceo rey, cryptocurrency, do not come here to defend Ben solo, dont be mean to Rey, essentially, i dont care, im not nice, its complicated, or tell me Rey isn’t nice, themes of masculinity and femininity, this is the authors response to Rey haters, tros sucked so bad wow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:46:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27597737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelview/pseuds/angelview
Summary: You know the saying, ‘it’s a man’s world?’ The more time passes, the more Rey Niima realizes it’s true. Despite starting from the bottom and working her way up (both in life and the corporate ladder), Rey still finds herself falling short in the eyes of her grandfather, Sheev Palpatine.She’ll prove him wrong, though. Starting by snuffing out the company’s biggest rival/the person who threatens her rightful place in Empire Finances, Ben Solo.She’ll show them BOTH who’s boss.Cause if she were a man, she’d be THE man.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23





	The Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arrum_rose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrum_rose/gifts), [areyofsunshine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyofsunshine/gifts), [bensoloswhor3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bensoloswhor3/gifts).



> Dedicated to Lynn, Kailee, and Lena. You girls keep me constantly inspired and encouraged with your talent, strength, and friendship! I see a lot of you guys in this story’s Rey. I hope you like it. ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡
> 
> Amazing moodboard by my talented, wonderful friend Debbie! Catch Debbie on twitter:
> 
> Www.twitter.com/folklxre

"Retired." Palpatine said.

He announced this in the same way he announced everything: crispy, pointedly, definitively.

He could just as easily be announcing that rain would be showering the city over the weekend or that the Nation has declared World War III . It was all relative to the old man. It meant nothing to him, so long as he had no outdoor plans that weekend and they weren't asking him personally to enlist in the Service.

So the fact that he would now be retiring from his multi-million-dollar company was of no consequence to him. He had set himself up for life— a life well-beyond his established seventy-eight years— so no skin off his nose.

Rey knew she was but a mere afterthought in her grandfather's grand scheme of things. so she repressed a self-satisfied grin as he told her.

_I got this._

And even if she hadn’t made the preparations she had to make this moment happened, she knew he had set aside some pocket change for her. Not only because she was attuned to most of his personal banking details, but she also knew the nature of his position. He had the tendency to hand out checks to whatever the popular charity of the moment was; six-digit checks to him were like the nickels and quarters at the bottom of her purse. That was just the way it was with her grandfather, as it was to most in his place.

Society-conscious businessmen knew better than to snub their favorite charities.

In that way Sheev Palpatine was quite fortunate to have been 'reunited' with his ‘unknown,’ estranged grandchild: his greatest act of charity.

He was deemed a real human-sort of fellow for pulling the orphaned girl from the lowest trenches of East London, years after his equally estranged, dope-addicted son and his filthy wife either had died or wandered off into oblivion, leaving their only child behind.

Leaving Little Miss Nobody (as her third foster called her) to be bounced around the system.

He ‘discovered’ her when she was nearly twelve.

He never bothered to delve into the details of just how he ‘found’ her. He claimed it was ‘modesty’ and ‘humility’ that kept him from elaborating.

His archives would claim foreknowledge and easy access to money and legal rights were key factors in his retrieval of her.

Yes, Palpatine was certainly lucky to have ‘miraculously stumbled upon’ such an uncomplicated, organic, flattering cause like Little Miss Rey Niima... _Palpatine_.

And Rey supposed she ought to count herself lucky, too.

She could be the universal mascot for the rags-to-riches trope.

She went from having nothing to having everything.

_Almost everything_ , she couldn’t help but think.

Her grandfather was not one to tolerate her being in anything less than the best. She liked to think it was because he wanted to spoil her, but there was a lingering feeling of doubt that trailed that thought.

But it didn’t matter; she was grateful nonetheless. She always was given the nicest clothes, backpacks, schooling, dance classes, etc. He ensured she had everything— something only _he_ could provide.

Whether she wanted it or not.

Being the lucrative, successful creature he was, he rarely even needed to _see_ the girl, let alone get to _know_ her.

_‘What's your favorite color, dear? The staff will be putting together your room tomorrow,’ He had said to her over the first of their few dreary, awkward dinners together. It was an unflavored chicken dish._

_‘Green,’ she told him, elated with the mental image of pretty vines and maybe even one of those vintage floral quilts on her bed._

_He nodded in response, chewing his stake like he was the cow and he was eating cud._

_‘That’s a boy’s color,’ he muttered into his cloth napkin._

_The next day, her entire quarter was done in the brightest, most aggressive shade of pink._

It was a cumulation of those sort of things that caused her to question just how "lucky" she ought to feel. But whenever a question arose, she sent it away, back to a part of her mind she didn’t visit often.

She kept memories there. Some nice ones, like when she was given an iPod Touch or when realized she no longer was going to bed with an empty belly. But a lot of them were not nice. Not too many that she would necessarily call ‘bad,’ since most of the especially bad ones were sunken even deeper into her mind; those tended to stem from her days in the system.

But memories that made her smile upon recollection and then frown upon analysis. Like whenever she would return home from her private school lessons. Wherever she came home and would run up the dozens of stone stairs to get into the mansion, eager to tell her grandpa— or anyone who'd give her the time of day, really— that she passed her pre-calculous exam with flying colors. She was then met with solitude; with apathy; with _disappointment_.

Her governess, Maz, would offer her celebration and encouragement, though. And Rey _thrived_ on it; she absolutely _needed_ it, because she never really had it before. It kept her going, no matter how her only living family reacted to her. Or, more accurately, _didn't_ react.

Anytime she had demonstrated intelligence, capability, or independent success, Sheev would glance up from his newspaper, scan over her briefly, and mutter words of patronization or indifference. The more he was exposed to her potential, the more... well, _irritated_ he seemed to get.

_Maybe he thinks I’m just growing up too fast or something_ , she selected to reason. _Because what other reason would he have to be so crossed about it?_

He eventually began to recommend she attend to ‘the proper things in a young lady's life,’ such as spring breaks in Paris or a calligraphy class.

She wanted to take a class on mechanics or something instead, but he shot that idea down immediately.

‘ _Dear_ ,’ he'd say. ‘ _It's the Man's place to worry about the knotty-gritty. lt's a Woman's place to call him to deal with it_.’

It didn’t quite make sense to her since she couldn’t imagine the posh old man rushing over to her if she had broken down at the side of the road, let alone get his hands dirty by tinkering with the car.

She did, to a degree, enjoy the luxuries and programs she was shuffled into. She grew to like (not love) the color pink. She liked filling her vanity trays with floral perfumes. She loved the private sewing class she took, appreciating the practicality and detailed method of the craft.

She decided it was better for them both if she didn’t tell him that she took the mechanics class instead of tap dancing, though.

The less she told, the less he would ask.

And she never lost sight of the importance education and wisdom had. She prided herself in the extensive knowledge she had on a wide variety of subjects. Each class and lesson she took was like attaining a new, brilliant tool for her toolbox.

At the end of the day, she could always count on herself— could _only_ count on herself, really. That was her primary takeaway from life at that point. She knew to keep her eyes open and watching, 360° at all times. She liked knowing where all her potential entrances were; and, perhaps more importantly, where all the potential exits were.

So she kept learning. Kept taking classes. Kept herself well-read and well- informed. And she learned the importance of _instinct_.

It was instinct that told her to keep her grandpa’s attention off her as she scavenged whatever pieces of opportunity she could find.

She even managed to shimmy and slide her way into her Empire Financial.

It started as a summer internship over at the reception desk. But then the following winter break, it was customer relations. Spring break, it was bookkeeper. Then it was strategy office manager. So on and so forth.

And now, at age twenty-four, she finagled her way to the top: Chief Operating Officer of Empire financial. Unofficially, of course.

It all happened so fast... all by design, of course.

She convinced Sheev that the only person who would his best interest in mind would be _her_. It took numerous speeches built on flattery to reach him, but she ultimately succeeded.

She also mentioned how good it would _look_ for him to have his "most humanistic success" ( _her_ ) merge and become synonymous with his "most esteemed success" ( _his company_ ). It would be easy to circulate the rumor that he had his grandchild working there, and the public would never even need to see her, let alone know her.

It would bring a surplus of new clients if they saw what a family man he was, and how smart and generous he must be to have such a successful grandchild— a total reflection of him, completely obliterating and murky talk and whispered controversy about his... less than savory past business affairs.

And by doing that, she essentially facilitated her future. A future she _deserved—_ not only by way of association and heritage, but by having _worked_ for it.

And at that moment, it didn't really even matter to her or anyone else that she was related to Palpatine. She was truly, 100% the most— the _only_ — eligible candidate to take over from here on out.

Whether people knew it or not.

Rey was behind most of the noteworthy deals and client relations within the company. And all the smaller, least prioritized ones the old man had run out of patience and personal interest in.

And as far as the clients were concerned, they were either dealing with Palpatine himself via email and letter; that or his _secretary_ , whenever they needed to come into the office or talk on the phone and thus encountered a young lady instead.

Her grandfather’s deep-rooted shame of her paid off when it came to making her way into the business. He had elected to keep her exact identity out of the public eye, so she could grow up without the pressure and obligation that came with notoriety.

That was what he told her anyway. She knew the real reason was less noble.

It used to hurt, to know her only living family was embarrassed by her.

Ashamed. _Disgusted._

He never directly said it, but she knew it. It was the way he left her at home whenever there was a fun event she might’ve been interested in going to. The way he scolded her whenever she tried asking about her father or mother. The way he’d scoff and sneer whenever he caught her eating with her hands instead of cutlery because she was eating too fast and making a mess. His impatience for her ‘street child’ habits. His annoyance whenever she showed interest in something that wasn’t in sync with his personal standards. 

The way he never took photos of or with her. Only the house staff and his immediate circle of legal advisors had ever seen her.

Even so, he couldn’t go without letting the public know what he had done, taking in a long-lost feral child in. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

But as far as the public knew, he had taken in his ‘grandchild.’ That was it. Not even his ‘grand _daughter_.’

When speaking of her publicly, he’d refer to her as ‘the child,’ or ‘my dear grandchild.’

He always reverted to calling her ‘dear.’ At first it was sweet, but then she realized he probably used it because he found her name so unremarkable. Maybe even repulsive, because her face— her presence in his life— was tied to that name.

_Rey._

She knew she shouldn’t have been surprised, let alone disappointed that none of the staff of Empire recognized her or knew who she was. How could they? Palpatine never revealed the name of his elusive grandchild, nor had a picture of her ever been seen.

He requested that she only work there under an allias as well. So everyone there knew her as Rey Niima, the last name she adopted when she was on her own.

She was _phenomenal_ at what she did. Not just the business and numbers aspect of it, but with the product development and rapport with the staff and clients alike. She enjoyed getting to know each person and encourage the development of their strengths; she appreciated the value of encouragement and consolation, and worked at in acting positive reinforcement around the company.

She also took great interest in the research and development division. If she did’t understand or know something, she took time out of her schedule to learn about it.

‘What color should the ten-valued chip be? You’re a girl, you know about colors,’ one of the older men in the division asked. She knew he was being condescending, but she wasn’t one to let something small like that (like him) stop her.

She spent the whole weekend researching the psychology of color and came back that Monday with a PowerPoint that explained her selection.

She suggested blue.

Blue: calm, trustworthy, security, confidence. Easy and approachable, more appealing to use than the five-valued chip. Thus, consumers would be more inclined to select the higher value and spend _more_ rather than just spend exact amounts for necessities. 

They moved forward and made the new symbol for the ten-value chip blue. 

Even Sheev had no choice but to praise her cunning and quick-wit, though he only did so in private and the there was always an underlining sense of condecenation in his words.

_‘You do endear yourself, dear.’_

_‘You've grown from being a silly little girl to being a... Slightly less silly young lady.’_

_‘You've certainly got the brains from the Palpatine side.’_

_‘Very clever, and from a woman, no less!’_

And she usually could grin and bear those stupid, mysogonistic comments, so long as he continued making letting her make headway in the cryptocurrency world. 

One phrase in particular was harder to stomach than others, though.

_‘You have my power.’_

Sure, while he was CEO he took credit for all her accomplishments. Never even _thinking_ to credit or even share with her, but she still said nothing. She supposed it was all according to this undefined deal that they had come to.

_'lt's just a necessary sacrifice,'_ she'd tell herself. _'An investment. An investment for the future.’_

She slipped away from her musings and turned to him. She gave him her broadest, cheekiest, most brilliant smile and clasped her hands together.

"Oh, grandfather!" She cooed with awe, "I am _so_ relieved. You deserve to take advantage of what life has to offer someone like you. You've worked so hard and have been, just, absolutely _brilliant_. You really have developed Empire into something tremendous."

Palpatine smirked, quite pleased with her words; pleased with _himself_. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes taking inventory of the room.

Everything in his office was monochromatic and sleek. The desk wrapped around the back side of the spacious office, keeping Palpatine in like the dashboard of a spaceship, decked in bright silver and stark black. He didn't really have any extra decorations. He had frames on the wall, but the only element of sentiment to be found was in the celebration of himself. Most were various diplomas from his extensive education, as well as awards and accolades. If there were people in the pictures, it was always and only of Palpatine with a small variety of his famous— and infamous— high-ranking clients.

Nothing indicating his association with Rey.

It used to hurt. But not anymore.

Mostly.

A dry chuckle came from him. "You flatter me, my dear."

She stuck out her hands, swiping them dismissively. "I only speak the truth."

He eyed her curiously for a moment, as if he was unsure what to make of her. She could've sworn his eyes soured briefly before he gave her a curt nod, but then again, that could just be his naturally curdled face.

He then tapped his boney, aged fingers against the dark washed marble, still demonstrating keen contemplation.

She had to give her grandfather that: he was a lot of things, and methodical and precise were among them.

He finally turned to her after the short minutes of heavy silence passed.

"I must admit, my dear," he began, tone heavy with incredulous disbelief; patronizing amazement. "You really outdid yourself in the time you've been helping out around here."

She smiled and blushed, despite knowing she did a lot more than ' _help out._ ’

"I've enjoyed working w— _for_ — you, grandfather."

_‘_ _For;_ _’_ _not_ _‘_ _with._ _’_

And, in that moment, she meant it. She tried to silence the little voice in her head that celebrated the possibility that she had finally earned acceptance and her grandfather’s pride, but it was hard. It was the loneliness speaking out.

_I have arrived, I have arrived_ , it sang.

"I'm sure you have," he agreed. "The Empire is a wonderful company to be working for."

She nodded. There was an element of excitement and playfulness in his voice, akin to when one tries to rile and tease someone, as if leading and building up to something spectacular.

"And," he added, "you of all the people under me would know that best of all, now wouldn't you, my girl?"

He was absolutely beaming at her at that point, rubbing his hands together as if he was telling her about a delicious meal they were about to have.

“So many years, collecting some of the most prized relationships with investors, buyers, sponsors, and the public alike. We started with nothing, my dear. Just an idea from your silly old grandfather. A wish, even. A wish to...,” he paused, taking a much-needed breath. His frosty blue eyes were squinted and shifted toward the ceiling, like he was getting caught up in a daydream.

He clicked his tongue, aiming to find the right words. “A wish... for power.”

His words were followed by a dark chuckle. He shook his head nonchalantly and shrugged. “You see, my sweet little miss Rey,” he continued, pausing to look her way and extend his hand out, gesturing her to take the lone seat that faced him.

He took a deep breath and leaned back again, hands clasped together and placed along his torso. He swerved slightly in his chair, now angled toward the panoramic window behind him. 

The window provided a grand scope of Coruscant and all its little— and big— happenings. Skyscrapers similar to the one they were in neighbored, though none of them were as tall and magnificent in stature. Even the exterior was done in a fine yet subtle black marble with silver accents. It was a colossal city, but Palpatine’s window allowed for him to keep his eye on everything in it— which, to him, was essential.

“It always starts with a wish. A desire, in the simplest sense. A wise man must always enter a situation with a goal— something he wishes to attain. Could be a thing, like luxury and finances. A concept, like ‘peace’ and ‘stability’ for him and those under him. Something he lacks, maybe. Maybe control. Maybe all of it combined. And do you know what that ultimately results in? What the wish of a wise man’s mind, body, and soul must be?”

“...happiness?” Rey offered. 

Palpatine sneered and cackled, thus making her feel stupid as she usually did whenever she tried to engage in his rhetoric.

“So precious. My dear grandchild, always looking to greener pastures. Maybe that’s why they called you ‘Rey.’”

She flinched as she would if his words were embers.

‘ _They_ ’— did he mean her parents or whoever had to deal with her at the orphanage and the various foster homes? She didn’t know.

_I named myself Rey._

“But no, my girl. It’s _power.”_

_“Power,”_ she reiterated.

He nodded. “Power. _Unlimited power_.”

Something wicked sparkled in his eye, the way light catches the flash of a predator’s eyes hidden in darkness. She knew the story of Empire, how it started and how it came to be what it was today. She had heard her grandfather tell the story on numerous occasions, pridefully appealing to potential clients with the story.

_‘When I was young— so young, friends. Still in university, in fact, I worked closely with one of my former professors. Seeing that his student was an avid, if not— his words— ‘gifted’ student, my professor took a young Sheev under his wing, insisting that the boy be mentored in the ways of business. It was one of the happiest times in my life, speaking candidly. Everything was new and in development; anything worth having and pursuing was laid out before me, under God’s golden sun. It was the Springtime of my life._

_So the day my beloved mentor passed away, under the most treacherous, sudden circumstances, all of my hope had been lost, almost. I felt naked, schlepped into the lucrative world of finances without a hand guiding me along._

_And then, I met a dear friend. A young technology student who shared with me his studies of currency— cryptocurrency. Something unheard of before our fate-sanctified meeting. I knew we were onto something big; something ground-breaking, earth-shattering, life-changing. And with our combined genius and resources, the concept of cryptocurrency was born._

_Force Power walked so_ _Bitcoin_ _could run._

_And, ever loyal to my friend, I utilized the modest, undisclosed inheritance my professor left to him to jump-start research and development._

_Unfortunately, my beloved friend also soon followed my exquisite mentor in unforeseen death. And so it was on me to carry the weight of a budding international financial empire on my back._

_And it was only uphill from there.’_

But the way he began the story now was different. There was an unexpected element of darkness in his words. And yet, he was exuberant; Rey had never seen him as happy as he was then when recalling the genesis of his company. This was something... different.

She didn’t like it, but couldn’t quite explain why.

“You see, my professor— my mentor in all things— taught me everything about The Force, even the nature of the dark side.”

Rey’s eyebrows furrowed as she took a hard swallow. Palpatine wasn’t moving or speaking in any way that should make her feel threatened, and yet there was a small echo of fear in her lungs, delaying her response.

“‘The Force’? You mean, like... the currency?”

He shrugged, eyes moving downward from side to side. “In a sense.”

He then got up from his seat and went through one of the adjacent file cabinets to his side, wasting no time in retrieving a small notebook tucked deep within. He didn’t need to shuffle things around to find it, so Rey figured it was something he kept readily accessible; something he must look at a lot.

She herself had never seen it before. It was bound in aged cognac leather and even had a miniature lock on it. She couldn’t see what he was doing initially since he had his back to her, but she soon realized he was retrieving a key from his person to unlock it. He put the key away and then returned to her.

She noticed how long his nails were getting when he used the yellowing tips to delicately brush through the brownish, edge-torn pages. Once again he seemed to know what he was looking for because he soon found it.

Rey could faintly make out the old, faded gray markings on the rough paper as his handwriting. She turned her gaze back to him, though she could probably see what was written if she kept looking. She didn’t want him to think she’d ever presume authority to go over his personal musings.

Even though she easily could.

It was possibly the warmest smile she had ever seen on the sly old dog’s face; he looked at the page with the same fondness she’s only ever seen on TV. It was akin to the face of a parent, looking at their beloved child’s photograph.

_Joy. Appreciation. Acknowledgement. Pride._

_Love._

Her saliva ran thin and the tips of her cheekbones stung a bit, nearly reaching her eyes. She collected herself in time, though. This had to be one of the many standard ties she put resent and any other emotion that rendered her vulnerable aside. it was a skill she had mastered, just as she had mastered most things she pursued over time.

None of that mattered now. _This_ was it. _This_ was what all the suffering and hard work has amounted to. Her _future_ — a destiny of _greatness_ , of being known and respected— surrounded her in that moment.

It was _finally_ in her reach. And she sincerely earned it herself.

_This is for me._

“This was a journal of sorts I kept throughout my later years in University,” he explained, not taking his eyes off the dingy book. A conglomeration of all the juice morsels and tasty bits of fat I had been given. ‘Tricks of the trade,’ in laymen’s terms.”

She rushed to nod, hoping to stop him before he goes into his usual routine of excessive explanation. He always did that, insisting Rey likely had no idea of what he was talking about.

_‘I’ll speak simply, and refrain from using those silly big words you’re likely unfamiliar with,’_ he’d tell her.

“Just simple concepts and little quips. Some are quite cute and clever, dear. I’ll have to show you them sometime, I think you might even be able to giggle at them.”

She bit her lip a tad forcefully and just grinned and nodded.

“But anyway. What I’m about to show you, miss Rey, is perhaps the most important piece of information you will come across. Consider it,” he tipped his head back so he could peer down at her, regarding her thoughtfully. He smiled. “Part of your _legacy_... your _inheritance_.”

Her heart raced rapidly in her chest and her nerves were alight, heightening all her senses.

_This is it this is it this is it!_

He brought his reading glasses to his face and cleared his throat.

“I quote:

_‘the rule of two— two there should be. No ore, no less. One to embody power, the other to crave it.’_

_Darryl Plaguis, M.B.S. Autumn, 1962._ ”

“And M.B.S. Stands for—.”

Eager for the conversation to progress, Rey interrupted. “Master of Business and Science.”

His brow raised and his thin lips pursed as he eyed her suspiciously. “Yes,” he confirmed dryly.

“So— so what am I to take from that, sir?”

His wicked, smug grin returned. “That, child, is the key structure of _business_. Provider and consumer— _two_. Brains and body— _two_. Test and subject— _two_. Dominant and submissive— _two._ Mentor and apprentice _— two_. Child and parent...,” he bated her the way a maestro guides his orchestra, knowing he had her excitement and energy hooked.

“ _Two_ ,” she finished for him with an affirmative nod. Her head was beginning to ache from nodding so much.

He didn’t seem crossed this time.

“Exactly. It’s always two. One has the _need_ and the other has the _means_. It’s human nature, dear. A common thread that holds _everything_ and _everyone_ together. My mentor saw it, his mentor before him saw it, and so it goes. It’s _the force_ that binds the world.”

_Ah. So that’s why he named the currency Force Power._

He leaned closer and she followed. She knew what he was getting at: a before and after, a seed and blossom, a beginning and an end, cause and effect...

“And business is the same way. _We_ are the provider...”

_‘We’— I’m part of this now..._

“And our _customers_ and _clients_ are the consumers...’

‘ _Our’— it’s gonna be mine..._

“And everything and everyone knowing their place in this order is essential for keeping order. With order comes success, and with success comes...”

“Power...” she added, voice heavy with adrenaline.

“The Force is _power_. And who better to have power than those who know how to use it. People like us...”

_Like me..._

“And so my dear girl, it’s only appropriate that The Empire be handed down to someone who can handle its power...”

_My power..._

“ _I_ have the power, and in step with the rule of two, I’m turning the power to one who _craves_ it.”

_To ME, Rey Niima-Palpatine!_

“To _Benjamin Solo_.”

_TO WHO?!_

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hope you guys are doing well! I always feel like the first chapters of my stories are a bit rough but i hope this sets the stage well for the events to come!
> 
> Please let me know what you think via comments, kudos, tweets, DMs, etc!!
> 
> Say hi to me on twitter!
> 
> Www.twitter.com/ang3lview


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